


Heartbeat

by Lobotomite



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Gen, ITF AU, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-17 01:56:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13649040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lobotomite/pseuds/Lobotomite
Summary: It's been three years since Aaron died. It's been two and a half years since he came back. And it's been two weeks and four days since he returned to Emmerdale, freshly 'cured'.





	Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> Please be aware that though there isn't any 'on screen' character death or anything graphic, there is discussion of past character deaths and a past successful suicide attempt, and an 'on screen' coercion into suicide.

It's been three years since Aaron died. It's been two and a half years since he came back. And it's been two weeks and four days since he returned to Emmerdale, freshly 'cured'.

Ever since he found out he was being released out into the big wide world, possible reactions he'd be greeted with upon stepping into the corridor had been spinning through his mind – wariness, anger, disdain, _fear,_ realising nobody was there for him, nobody was willing to take him on. It leaves him weak with relief when he has a split second to see his mum's hopeful, tear-stained ( _tired, drawn_ ) face before he's being enveloped in a desperately tight embrace.

"My gorgeous boy," she whispers, trembling hand cradling his head to her shoulder while her other hand strokes his back. "My boy, oh, I missed you so much." He's been trying to think of what he would say to her ever since he came back to awareness, spinning possible reunions around and around in his head, but all he can do now that he's here is cling to her and drink in her warmth.

He'd been genuinely surprised when Paddy had sidled awkwardly over once he'd been released from his mum's grip, hesitantly clapping his hand on Aaron's shoulder and then pulling Aaron into a hug when he'd leant into the touch. If there was anyone he would've thought would be glad to see the back of him, it would be Paddy, but he seems just as emotional to see him as Chas was, grip tight and reassuring.

"Right, well, we've got a – um, we've got a long drive back, so best be off, ay?" Aaron nods along as his mum agrees with forced brightness, feeling lost and disconnected and only capable of following along with other people anyway.

"We thought – me and your mum, that is – we thought that it would be nice if, um, if she stayed with us, for a bit, to- you know, for support. Just so, uh, so that we're both around if you need us. I've still got – I never- I mean, your room is still set up, I never quite managed to- anyway, it's been tidied up a bit, but your stuff is still there, won't take much to get you feeling back at home. Clyde'll be delighted to see you, he's missed you a lot- I'm not as good, apparently-" Paddy falls back on his usual slightly awkward babble as they leave the centre and head for the car, Chas quiet and clinging to Aaron's hand, and Aaron is so overwhelmed and foggy that it takes him a few seconds to realise the implications of what Paddy is saying.

"I'm staying with you?" he asks, struck immediately with guilt at the way Paddy falters and his face drops, glancing nervously at Chas before looking down.

"Oh. Well, I thought- I guess I shouldn't have assumed, I just. But if you'd rather be somewhere else that's fine, of course it's fine, we can sort something out-"

"No," Aaron cuts in. "No, I want to, I just... I just thought... considering everything, that you wouldn't."

His mum's hand squeezes his, and he has to look down and away from the look on Paddy's face, the pity and affection on his face making his chest tight.

"Let's get you home, then," is all Paddy says in reply, giving Aaron an encouraging smile when he glances back up, and for the first time since he woke up he thinks some things might be alright.

 

* * *

 

It's not easy. He hasn't taken even a step outside, yet; Paddy and his mum are fussy and overprotective, not happy with him being out of their sight let alone out of the house, but if he's being honest he wouldn't want to leave, anyway. He doesn't want to see the people he had known, to have them know what he is – even more, he doesn't want to see a noticeable _absence_ of people he'd known. He's been filled in on some of the happenings of the village since he's been gone, but he knows it's been carefully curated, knows that there's every chance some people didn't make it through the Rising.

It's the near constant monitoring that's really getting to him. He knows he's given them more than enough reason to – that they're just doing it because they care, and because they've already lost him once. It doesn't mean he's not incredibly relieved when they both happen to need to be out of the house at the same time, and finally leave him alone after many reassurances that he'll be fine for a few hours and promises to call one of them if he needs anything.

He settles himself in front of the TV – with one of Paddy's old Star Trek tapes on, because he's still too nervous to watch proper TV, too scared to see or hear any acknowledgement of the post-Rising world they live in – but he only manages to get through half an episode before he hears the door swing open.

He looks up, ready to make a probably too harsh comment about not even being allowed half an hour to himself, but the words die in his throat when it's not Paddy or Chas who walks through the door.

Holly looks older than he remembers.

It's not like that should be surprising – it's been three years since he last saw her, after all. Of course she looks older. Logic doesn't stop it being a shock every time he sees someone he knew for the first time since coming back, though – and the difference between the Holly he knew and the Holly standing in front of him is probably the most stark he's seen.

Because she's not just older – she's _harder_. Not in the drawn, weary way that most of the others have been, but _angry_ , fierce and closed off, holding herself tall and purposeful and looking down at him with unmitigated disdain that makes him feel sick and small.

"Holly," he starts in surprise, but she acts like he hasn't said anything.

"He was devastated when you died, you know," she says, staring at him intently. "It destroyed him. He missed you so much, and he felt so guilty; it didn't matter how many times we told him it wasn't his fault, I know he thought it was. He was the one who found you, did you know that? You weren't gone, when he did. And he fell apart after he couldn't keep you here. But then... It was awful, and terrifying, but when The Rising happened, he had something to live for. He was one of the first to join, you know, back before it even had a name, and it gave him something to fight for.

To protect Hannah, and mum, and everyone else; to make up for failing you. You fucked him up so badly with what you did, and then – then when he was _finally_ getting somewhere, _finally_ starting to forgive himself, you just had to fucking come back, didn't you!? You just _had_ to be one of- one of the ones who rose. The only rotter in the whole goddamn world who could have made him freeze up." She shakes her head, lips pressed tight together and eyes wet, and Aaron feels his chest tighten, awareness starting to sink in.

"No," he manages, voice tremulous. "Not _Adam_ , _no_ , I w- I would never-"

" _Of course you would, Aaron!_ " She screams, tears finally breaking free and streaming down her cheeks. "You're a fucking _rotter,_ that's all you did, that's all any of you do, you think you're _special_!? You think you're the only piece of shit rotter who hasn't hurt an innocent person? You hurt plenty of people before you died, Aaron, don't pretend you don't know what you are." She takes a sharp, gasping breath, eyes bright with fury.

"I used to think killing yourself was the worst thing you could have ever done. Turns out you coming back was even worse. I didn't come here for a conversation, Aaron – I came here to say what everyone wants to. Fuck off and let us heal." She's got herself back under control now, voice cool and collected with only minor wobbles betraying her emotions. Her face is like a mask, harsh and unforgiving; everything Holly had never been, when he knew her. She takes a few measured steps forward, until she's next to the table.

She keeps direct eye contact with him, chin tilted up and jaw tight, as she pointedly places a handgun onto the table with a clack. "Do it properly this time, Aaron," she says quietly, and then she's turning and walking back out the door.

He's always painfully, horribly aware of what he is, but never does he feel it more keenly than times like this, when the visceral, automatic reactions he'd known his whole life don't come. When his heartbeat is silent instead of thundering in his chest, when the quick, insufficient pants of panic don't make him dizzy because he doesn't need to breath in the first place, when the tears that would be spilling down his cheeks don't come. He'd hated them, when he was alive, the proof of his weakness, but now, god, he'd give anything to have them back.

He doesn't even hear her leave – his awareness has narrowed to the handgun repelling and drawing him in in equal measure. His hand reaches for it of its own accord, fingers gingerly curling around the grip and pulling the gun into his lap. It's strange, how such a little thing can hold so much power. Strange knowing that this little gun has probably ended the lives – deaths? Undeaths? - of dozens of ro- of partially deceased....

He swallows and squeezes his eyes closed tight. It had been a big part of therapy, when he was being prepared for reintegration – _You're ill. You were ill. You are a Partially Deceased Syndrome sufferer._ They'd drilled it into his head, made sure that he referred to himself – to his condition – as PDS. He hadn't been aware of the term "rotter" at the time, of course; that was a word he'd only heard in the very late stages, right before he went home. That didn't mean he was unaware of what he really was though; a monster. A violent beast. Irredeemable.

He might not remember what he'd done when he was feral, but he knows that whatever it was, there's no way for him to ever make up for it. He'd known it from his first moment of post-death awareness, but finding out what he'd.... what he'd done to Adam, that had only cemented it in his mind. If he would have gone after _Adam,_ he would have done anything.

He turns the gun around in his hands, studying the way the light shines off the barrel, but doesn't have any time to do anything else before he's interrupted by a sharp rap on the door and he's stuffing the gun down the side of the couch.

"Yeah?" he calls out, hoping his voice is steady.

He assumes it's Paddy, knocking to prove he's not trying to catch Aaron in the middle of anything or check up on him, but it's definitely not Paddy standing there when the door swings open.

He knows he must look like a complete fucking idiot, sitting there in stunned silence with his face slack, but he can't think of anything to say, can't make his face move, can't do anything but sit there and take in the face he'd been so sure he'd never see again only seconds ago.

He's a _man_ now, tall and broad shouldered and with a beard he wouldn't have imagined Adam would ever have been able to pull off, but he's still _Adam_ , still fills the room with a presence that makes Aaron's breath catch, still has kind eyes and a kind face even if Aaron can't read his expression anymore.

He can't have not known Aaron would be there, but he's staring at Aaron almost the way that Aaron is staring at him, as if he never thought he'd get the chance again – which he probably didn't, Aaron supposes, at some point, anyway.

"You look 18," Adam finally says, breaking the silence.

"You don't," Aaron replies automatically, kicking himself immediately for saying anything, especially something so obvious and inane, but Adam's lips curl into a small, slow smile and he steps into the room, closing the door behind him.

"You look... god, Aaron, you look just like how I remember you," Adam says as he walks over, scrutinising Aaron's face in a way that would have had him blush in a past life. He sits gingerly on the couch next to him, reaching out a hand and gently grasping Aaron's jaw, taking him in. "It really is you, isn't it?"

It's a big question. It's a question that Aaron has been asking variations of since he woke up; he still hasn't managed to find the answer.

"I think so," is all he manages, being as honest as he can be, and he can't help but reach up himself and curl his fingers around Adam's wrist, drinking in the way he can feel his pulse, proving to himself that Adam really is here.

Then Adam is gently pulling him closer and Aaron goes with it, burying his face in Adam's neck as Adam holds him tight and presses his face against his hair, and he wishes he could cry right now just to have some sort of relief from these feelings ballooning in his chest.

"I thought I... I thought you were..." he might not be able to cry, but that doesn't mean he has any hope of controlling his voice in the face of the maelstrom of emotions flooding him, so his voice trembles as he tries to find a way to vocalise how much he needed Adam to be okay. He doesn't manage it, is as useless at talking about what he's feeling as he always has been, but just like he always has, Adam knows what he's trying to say.

"She has been here, then," he sighs, sounding tired and unhappy as he leans pulls back, running a hand across his eyes. "I told her to mind her own, but... it's been hard for her. For all of us." Aaron swallows heavily and nods, unable to look Adam in the eye with the guilt twisting in his gut.

"It's not- I'm not blaming you, Aaron. Well... I don't know. I did. I used to. I'm not saying this to make you feel guilty, I just – god, Aaron, when you died it felt like you'd taken me with you. I know I should've come see you sooner but I just.. I was so _angry_ at you, for so long, for leaving me and everyone, and then for coming back and making me... making me face the possibility of taking you away again. Making me realise I couldn't do it, even though you really could have taken me that time. Hating you was easier than missing you."

Adam clearly didn't intend for that to hit as hard as it did, but the off handed as-good-as confirmation that Holly hadn't been lying has Aaron abruptly aware of the scar he can see peeking out of the collar of Adam's shirt, and he reaches out without consciously thinking about it, cutting Adam off as he eases the collar down with shaky fingers.

It's not easy to see. It's jagged and deep, dragging from his shoulder and down to his chest, vicious and painful looking despite being long since healed.

"Did I...?"

"No," Adam says quietly, grasping his hand and gently pulling it away but not letting go, squeezing it gently. "No, that wasn't you. You never touched me, Aaron; I saw you, and I froze, and I let my guard down... but you never touched me."

Still his fault, then – but he can't deny that its a relief, knowing that he really hadn't been on the verge of killing Adam, really hadn't hurt him directly. But...

"I could have, though," Aaron whispers.

"I could have, and I wouldn't even _know_ , I wouldn't even remember, I might have _killed_ someone and not even remember their face. I don't know how I'm meant to make up for that, Adam," he chokes out. "I don't know what I'm meant to do."

Adam looks at him for a moment, hand still gripping Aaron's, and then leans over him and takes hold of the gun buried under the cushion, holding it up and then placing it on the table, pointed away from them.

"I don't either, Aaron," he says. "I still don't know what I'm going to do, either, or what Holly or mum or Hannah are going to do. But I do know that it's not that, okay? It's not that and it's not going to be by yourself. I'm still... I'm not going to lie and say that I'm over what you did, or the Rising, or any of it. But you're the best friend I've ever had, and I _am_ going to get over it. I know I haven't been here, because I was trying to... to get my head around everything, because I was scared that the Aaron I knew wouldn't be there anymore, but you are, I _know_ you are. And we're going to figure this whole thing out together."

He pulls Aaron in again, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pressing his face into Aaron's neck.

"You don't get to run away this time, alright? You can't do that to me again. We're both in this together."

He can tell that Adam wouldn't be saying this if he didn't mean it, wouldn't be bothering to try if he wasn't set on following through.

So he buries his face in Adam's chest and listens as Adam's heart beats for the both of them.


End file.
